What foods would you like to make?
Honestly? I’d love to make whatever the hell I don’t have to think about.
As a child, I took food for granted. Meals just appeared, whether it was fish fingers and beans or a weird casserole that looked truly disgusting. It didn’t matter. It was there. I didn’t have to plan it, shop for it, or mentally break down at the thought of “what do you fancy for tea?” for the fifth night in a row.
But now? Now I have to be the adult. And every day, I’m expected to conjure up some kind of edible magic while also pretending I enjoy it.
Honestly, if someone asked me what food I’d love to make, my answer is simple:
Anything someone else decides for me.
Something handed to me on a plate, no decision fatigue, no guilt, no “do we have onions?” panic. Just food. Hot, edible, and made by someone else. Bonus points if it involves cheese and I didn’t have to wash a single pan.
So no, I don’t dream of soufflés or artisan bread or learning how to fillet a fish with one hand. I dream of silence, a clean kitchen, and someone handing me a plate saying, “Sit down. I made this for you.”
That’s the real fantasy.
Thirty Something Plus VAT 